remote cards

The Indian contractor stops the sick man, asks him if he is feeling better. A conversation that he is doomed to repeat endlessly it seems, hearing that same question again and again as he heads to the kitchen and makes himself a cup of tea. The sick man explains about his back about how sore it has been. The Indian, like the others, asks about his cycling, whether this means who won’t be able to do it any more? The sick man has been hesitant, he sat on the bike, but was too wary, experimented with lowering the seat, suspects that will make a real difference, but until he gets the go ahead he is remaining cautious. The Indian makes sympathetic comments and observations, his accent is thick, a real Indian accent rather than the hybrid accent of British born Indians more frequently encountered – I was on a course with him a year or so ago, when he had been in the UK for less than six months. The sick man goes into detail about various experiences, then says he saw a unicycle in a shop window, so he decided he would buy it. The Indian is surprised, why would he want to do that? Surely it’s a bad idea? Then to clarify, that’s the one with one small wheel? No, the sick man says, its the one with only one wheel. Oh, the Indian says, the picture dawning, shock growing. The sick man gives a verbal shrug, well, I figured having to balance on it would either really strengthen my back or break it. Its about that point the conversation ends, though over the next 20 minutes I hear variations on the conversation again and again, though only the conversation with the Indian includes the unicycle.

Labels: back, cycle, glasgow, indian, sick, unicycle